


Finding Home

by janazza



Series: Linked Universe Shenanigans [4]
Category: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda) - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Hyrule (Linked Universe)-centric, Hyrule gets the love and support he deserves, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), POV Hyrule (Linked Universe), Parental Time (Linked Universe), Protective Legend (Linked Universe)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28891623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janazza/pseuds/janazza
Summary: With cursed blood, Hyrule was always on the run from both monsters and the very people he swore to protect. But when a portal brings eight men looking for Hylians named Link, his potential hunters become the same people he may one day call home.OrMeet Hyrule
Relationships: Hyrule & Legend (Linked Universe)
Series: Linked Universe Shenanigans [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021210
Comments: 11
Kudos: 101





	Finding Home

His name was Link and he defeated Ganon to restore peace across the land of Hyrule. 

* * *

Link thought him funny. Dark hair tied back in a loose braid, he had a strong jaw and stubble, and a kind smile when Link came across him in his frayed shoes and unwashed hair. Oh how awkward he was that he didn’t know how to make small talk when the kind man offered him some of his lunch. Dear Hylia, he forgot to even give the man his name! He didn’t seem to mind and laughed with him, a spark in his eyes in recognition, as he went on to speak of travels of his own between towns in search of someone special.

“Who?” Link asked.

“Just someone who has what I need.”

He said he had a house just up the road, small and quaint to store his wares, plus just enough space for a broke hero to sleep. How generous! Link didn’t get to meet many people on his journey or even before. Monsters and Ganon’s looming eye forced so many into corners of the land out of sight. It’d been like that for so long— to see the traveler not reach for a sword but wave a hand to the seat next him was like a dream. Sure, he may have taken part in ending Ganon’s reign, but to think they’d let a stranger sleep beneath their roof?

If only Link had just opened his eyes. 

There was no house, only miles and miles of forest and a man with a smile too wide and teeth too sharp, skin that ripped away to scales and furs, fingers lengthening to claws to smite him and wings blocking out the moon’s light until his sword found its chest. 

Link slept between the roots of a tree, sword across his lap and leg poorly dressed from the punctures of the ache’s claws.

* * *

He stumbled into town cold from the day’s rain and offered the last of his rupees for a hot meal. The vendor would not take it, eyeing him, just as the women slamming their shutters close and children he past did, and the butcher and weary farmer looking over their shoulders. People spoke in whispers to each other, but not to him, and the sword on his back felt heavy.

That is, except for the innkeeper with a warning. She spoke of growing numbers of monsters in the forest to the east, their groans and cries inescapable in the night all chanting a single name. A local farmer lost his son to them. She held his hand, gripped it tightly with shaking fingers and a haunted look of a woman who knew loss too young.

“You must leave this very instant. It is you they want.”

“I do not fear them,” he told her. 

“My husband does, and so does the barkeep and his sons. If you don’t walk out there on your own, they will make you.” 

She hid him in the basement where he counted his potions and studied his spells. He was tired, but the people would finally sleep soundly if he did this. He didn’t defeat Ganon just for his people to cower in fear.

He returned hours later bleeding, panting, eyes unseeing from the sweat and blood from his brow. The innkeeper hid him once more to rest through his victory, yet it was oh so short, for the chants started back up, a hymn between the trees, and the villagers could only wait so long for mercy. 

They came with rope, but he had already booked it to the town’s limits in the innkeeper’s husband's boots and the magical sword at his back.

* * *

He was careful to return to Zelda unseen to speak of the monsters' and Hylians' reactions to him. 

“Why do they want my blood? Revenge?”

She looked to him, her smile small and pained. “No, no. For something greater. The beasts believe you are the key to their Lord’s return.”

Oh. That made more sense why they ravaged villages and called for him. And the people were desperate for peace. . . 

“You are safe in these walls,” she assured, but Link wasn’t stupid. He may struggle to read from the castle’s library, not know what to do with his hands, or when someone was making a jab at him, but Link understood his presence was a danger to not only her but the very thing they were trying to rebuild. A swarm on the castle would devastate the little power they regained. 

In the middle of the night, he left in a hooded cloak and a bag better packed. He would not be returning to the castle. 

* * *

“Link? That’s a nice name.”

* * *

He did not like his name.

* * *

Link learned a very hard lesson.

Once, he helped reset the wheel of a caravan for a group of survivors. They were kind, offering a warm meal made from their own wares and his traitorous stomach thanked them for it. 

They were escaping. “Our town is in shambles, but we haven’t given up hope.” The beasts had torn through the night taking their family and farms. The woman speaking was pregnant. “There must be somewhere safe from them.”

An older man with hair receding and a bottle of something bitter in hand scoffed. “Bah! Your husband would be alive if that were the case!” 

“Harold!” 

“How much more must they take? How much must we suffer before one side gives?” He trounced the bottle forward dribbling the drink past the lip. “The queen is a fool to think a little hero could fix everything.” 

It became all too obvious who they spoke of and what they lost. The monsters were looking for him. . . 

“Why do you keep your hood up, fella?”

Link kept his head down, cloak carefully wrapped around himself to hide his features. “It’s cold.”

“Come now, you’ve seen our faces. Got a scar?”

“Harold,” another scolded.

Link just wanted to eat.

Yet the man stood tall yet wobbling, his drink getting to him and his shadow great against the firelight. Link did not move when the hand flicked his hood back, not until the shouts started and the bottle flew just past his head. The others joined in, forcing him deeper into the woods. He did not stop no matter how his cold feet stung and lungs ached. He could not stop running as long as he still breathed and his heart pumped blood through cursed veins. He would run and hide as long as he must because what other choice did he have? 

At the end of the day, you look out for yourself and your people. Their kindness turned to suspicion as it should. Who would let a stranger eat beside them, one that was the reason their caravan had left their village that burned to the ground from monster attacks?

No place was safe.

He wasn’t safe.

It was everyone for themselves.

* * *

He slipped out of town as quick as he came, taking the needle and thread to his fraying tunic just at a river’s edge when he saw it. It swirled in deep purples oozing darkness like estranged magic, wind lapping at grass and the river’s surface— and Link did what he always did. He barely managed to duck into the bushes before the first being in plated armor appeared, towering and indifferent. Then another followed behind, then another, and Link clamped a hand over his mouth. 

They looked like Hylians. Perhaps they were aches considering the portal?

With a blue scarf cascading down his armor, one stepped out curiously just as the dark vortex closed. “Anyone recognize this place?” they asked.

“Not mine.”

“Nope.” 

“Dead grass. Maybe it's harvest season?”

“The trees are strange. They look sick.” 

“You think we’ll find another Link?”

His lungs froze, a chill creeping down his spine where he lay in the decaying brush of branches. Why are they looking for people named Link?

“Finally! Another one! I hope he puts up a better fight than the veteran.”

“I told you before, a fire rod isn’t cheating.”

No.

“Whatever, we should get going. Find a vantage point.” He couldn’t even keep up with the different voices and faces, everything blurring, his heart lurching and limbs shivering. Link had been careful, considerate. He stayed out of towns in hopes to keep the monsters away from them. He covered his tracks, cut down monster camps in odd places to keep them off his scent. He did it all so the people of this land would never have to feel like the growing numbers of monsters in their woods would need a solution. 

Yet they are hunting for him.

“Hey, there’s a bag here!”

He choked. There was no need to look at what bag they spoke of, not that there was much in it to begin with. 

“Maybe the owner is still around.”

No no no no— not like this—

He didn’t think, only heard the subtle crunch of grass and squelch of mud too close to his hiding spot, and he just moved. His old boots ripped into the ground, hands shoving away branches as surprised shouts came from behind. He would not stop, could not stop. He weaved between the dried trees, listening for where they tripped on spindly roots and voices echoing further back. 

Why did it come to this? 

The woods were harsh, but they were his. It wasn’t long until it was only his wheezing breath and crinkling grass. When it became too much, he leaned against the nearest tree, gripping its limb as he came to the realization of his loss. 

That pack had his food for the day, freshwater and the new spell book he found in a village ruins. Wiping his face he sighed. At least he was in the right direction to his hideout, maybe a few kilometers more. 

It’s a long and slow walk, the tunic he’d been mending thrown back on and his blade like a heavy weight. In town, he often hid its glinting metal and jewels, the weapon so easily recognized as the hidden hero’s chosen blade. Was he such a hero anymore, he wondered, if the people feared his presence? If they thought a hunt with their mediocre weapons ideal for their own protection than his? When was the last time he ate a hot meal made in an actual kitchen safely behind four walls and a roof?

His stomach rumbled grotesquely, a reminder of his lost rations. There should be something tucked away in his cave, hung up away from prying insects, even if it was just picked mushrooms and a few berries in season. They were supposed to be bait, but desperate times . . . 

Everyday felt like desperate times. 

No matter. Food wasn’t his biggest worry at the moment. Hunger kills slowly, a blade does not. He walked carefully, afterall, away from soft dirt and decayed plants to avoid leaving tracks. 

His steps made little sound in the quiet forest. 

That should have been his first cue. Critters unafraid should chitter and wander, bustling across bushes in search of berries and roots, songbirds twittering tunes for no audience. 

Silence meant danger laid just around the corner, the same corner that led to the small cave he decided to bunker down in for the incoming winter, the same corner where monsters thought themselves lucky. 

He paused. 

At the mouth of the cave were more than ten monsters he’d never seen before sniffing about the entrance. They— they were similar to the many he’d faced before but not so. Across Hyrule he’d seen plenty of strange beasts, yet never had he seen them without skin or scales like the Zora, but something akin to a lizard. How did he miss it? Now that he listened, their odd creeks and growls should have set off alarm bells. 

He stepped back slowly, because while he may have skill with a blade Link’s shoes were barely holding at the threads and a bruise hadn’t fully healed around his ribs, and his magic wasn’t as good as it should be considering how small his rations—

A snap. 

A twig snapped beneath not his foot, but somewhere behind him.. The beasts’ heads swiveled to their prey just as Link’s turned to his hunters. Before he could pull his blade, they, both monsters and Hylians, ran forward in squealed war cries.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
